•^5^ 




Mi 


<rc<c 
: « 



f 









^^1^^^^ 



^f?;t 









^ 



m 






Cccd 

c:c: 



^^^ 



^^fiCiC 






iLIBHARYOFCeMRESSj " 



^^?3^^ -Td^s I 



I UNITED states: OP AMERICA, f 



' II 

1 



il,;<^'%.'^^>'i©.><j 



c<: or 






&^ 






.. cc cc- <1 

^ <c cc 
^. cc cc ' 
_^cc. cc 

^ ^^: cc cc <a^ 

^-<£:'a cc:< ' 
. S ^^ ^^ ^- 

CLq cC^ < 



11- o:/<W^: 

^=^ cc <• 

^ ^ c c«iac^ < 

^ c. c^c<:^ 

Cc riK^eCt c 

. cc '«3C 

. Cv ^^j C 

-. ^'^ ^^cc 
. ^- <«CC 
_ c^ caci^ < 
- c <d<^ <^ 

C' <s^^ 

c -^iEc ' 

^1 



1^ 



^- S'^-^ ^<rjc: cc 
^ ec <3<r<:::: cc 

:,<?' dccc: d c. '^ 












^=- <: c 

=^ c: c 
CC 



^[^:icc<: 






cctcci ^ 

<IXC<^ 

t^CCC 

«i<aci 
^ <ctc _ 

cCCC 
<CCC 

<^cc ^ 



<j^:<z^ 



3C^ 
cc ^ 

r <^c * 

Z cc: ^C32cc..^3c< 

— - cjC 
~ CC 

c:cc 

<rcr ^ ^ ^^^^ ^^ 



'<I<2ec:<:«c: 

I 'C ^I^.-^^-. 

rO^cc 
^c^^3 cc 

DC ce 
'^c«3:c<:: 



c c:cr<r;c <2:^c-^ 






G^^ 






^ ^.c&oc: c^d 

z -«ic:<aoc : <cjc - 
^ -::GiC-c:' cc 

-rc<ic: ^rci^z.. 

. <€3rccc: 'C^; -^ 
€3£cc: <c:<:^^_^ 
<(ic<:' <i^_ 
<ccc_; <c ' 






"^<CC 

^ <CrC 

4^CC 

: cc(LC 

Ct-cC 

CfCC ■ 

CCC c 






cd <rcc 
ccr CCCC 



«1<^CC 



_ ca 
-I. <ccc 

<sc 

Z c<C 

=^^^ J- ^ 






<Cc<3C j^. 
<iC<_ 

<S<:C " 

' c: ^^ cc 
r^c. ^ cc 



^i::^ 



(-CI 









BY 



CORNELIA J. M. JORDAN. 



PATSIAl m^PEJ.KI mt MSM^EIAS M^3RW^EFM S'lS-^J.IS. 



RICHMOND, VA. 

1867. . 




PRICE, FIFTY CENTS. 



/t --7 



RICHMOND: 



MEM t^MmX MMB MEM mMMMKB^ 



^ ^mm. 



w two Film 



BY 

CORNELIA J. M. JORDAN. 
1866. 



3PATEIAB m^^him 3K'3f MEMORIAL MOaW^El^M FIMJ.IS. 



RICHMOND, VA. 

Richmond Medical Journal Print. 

1867. 






'^ 



TO THE 

DISTINGUISHED PRISONER OF FORTRESS MONROE, 

AND THE 

^Mlt^ 0f tftje i;0lI|!W00l IRiw^rtil g^^^0mti0i, 

Of Richmond, Va., 
THIS POEM IS INSCRIBED, 

With Admiration and Sympathy, 



Mi4tttott&. 



PART FIRST. 

I. 

Upon her rock-girt hills she stood, 
The City of the brave and good, 

Virginia's boast and pride : — 
God's sunshine on her brightly smiled, 
As Fortune on some favored child. 

Whom Heaven no gift denied. 

II. 

The morning light around her shone 
In roseate hues like Glory's own — 

The Day a splendor wore, 
That over Rome's imperial towers. 
Or Babylon's enchanted bowers, 

It never threw before. 

III. 

Sweet Night embraced her, like a friend. 
Who would the quiet pillow tend 

And dreams of rapture share, — 
While from the far off midnight skies. 
The stars looked down with sentry eyes 

Upon the slumberer fair. 



'^ 



VI RICHMOND : 



IV. 

And side by side in solemn strength, 

) As the swift years rolled on, at length 
( A rival City grew, — 

\ A rival in whose still embrace, 

} Lay the calm brow and marble face, 
^ The gentle and the true. 

^ - V. 

( 

S Here twilight shadows, soft and gray, 

') Stole through the muffled paths alway, 

J With tender, noiseless tread — 

\ And the sweet moon-beams kissed the ground 

V Of Hollywood, with awe profound, 

^ As we would kiss the dead. 

\ vi. 



} But Richmond, in her living pride, 

) Looked on this rival by her side 

\ With only tenderness ; 

) For in that rival's bosom deep 

\ Her lost ones found the tranquil sleep 

, That weary eye-lids bless. 



VII. 



Ah ! little dreamed she then that those, 
In whom her loftiest hopes repose, 

Would by the battle thrust. 
Ere long, with all their youthful charms, 
Be folded to her rival's arms. 

Commingled " dust to dust.^^ 



"3^ 



HER GLORY AND HER GRAVES. VU 



VIII. 

Lo ! by her hearth-stones all secure, 
Love watched the roseate visions pure 

Of infancy's calm sleep, 
And mothers looked with glowing eye, 
On brave sons, in whose bosoms high, 

Lay mighty thoughts and deep. 

IX. 

Within her goodly mansions old, 
Sweet girlhood did its dreams unfold. 

And manhood bowed the knee, — 
As beauty met, with blushing grace. 
The tell-tale glance and ardent face 

Of conquered chivalry. 

X. 

In power and splendor thus complete, 
Wealth pouring treasures at her feet, — 

Who might foretell her fate ? 
As on her rose-crowned hills of green. 



Like Thebes a wonder and like Rome a Queen, ^ 

This stateliest City sate. \ 

XI. 

But suddenly above her rolled 

Fierce thunders dark, and shadows cold 

Enwrapped her like a shroud. 
Then lifting high her queenly head. 
Her flag unfurled, her banner spread, 

We hear her war-cry loud. 



-^ 



Vlll RICHMOND : 



XII. 

Full armed she riseth in her might, 

Her buckler Trut/iy her shield the Right. 

Who dare her prowess try ? 
Behold ! the Northman's frown intense 
Rests on her proud embattlements — 

Who may his strength deny ? 

,XIII. 

Four years — four weary, w:oeful years 
Of blood and carnage, grief and tears, 
) Unheard of erst before, — 

) As bristling cannon scowl around, 

) W^hile battle thunders jar the ground, 

) And clattering muskets roar. 



\ XIV. 

) We see her struggling in her pride, 

). Her slow-declining strength defied, 
) Her brave sons, one by one, 



In open field, by forest rill, < 

On Drury's Bluff and Malvern Hill, ] 

Falling their swords upon. I 

XV. I 

Strewn o'er Manassas' crimson field, \ 

Where hearts dripped gore, but would not yield, 

And gallant blades were riven — 
Behold them in their ,beauty lie ! 
The brave, scarred form, the stricken eye. 

The dead to Glory given ! 



HER GLORY AND HER GRAVES, ix- 



^ XVL > 

? Ah ! look !— it comes — the funeral train, ( 

) That homeward bears her battle-slain ; \ 

^ Upon his bier we see — ^ 

S Crowned with green laurels that enfold ; 

( A stricken brow and forehead cold-— ^ 

( The youthful martyr Lee ! \ 

\ , XVII. \ 



And swiftly now from other fields, 

With broken swords and shattered shields 

They're gntliered — here at last, 
To find, upon their mother's breast 
A peaceful, calm, unbroken rest — 

Life's stormy conflict past. 

XVIII. 



\ XIX. 

) And from the sweet sequestered bowers 

Of Hollywood, Spring's early flowers 



S Look forth with smiling eye, 



2 



From BethePs darkened plains afar, > 

') From Cedar Mountain's gory scar — "> 

From Shenandoah's wrecked vale, S 

They're borne upon their blood-stained bier { 

To find jI smooth grave-pillow here — ( 

All told, — Life's sorrowing tale ! ( 



\ 
S 

x\s to the low, sad, wailing tones ^ 

Of Richmond for her martyred sons, \ 

They breathe a mute reply. ) 






RICHMOND : 



\ 
\ 
\ 



XX. 

They tell of seed in sorrow sown, 

By God's own breath mysterious blown, ^ 
^ That we snail reap in joy- 

\ When we have laid Earth's crosses down, ^ 

) And the tuned Harp and fadeless Crown, \ 

^ No rude hands may destro\' . \ 

\ XXL I 

) . \ 

'^ Oh ! who so stern as not to weep, \ 

) Where Walker and where Munford sleep — \ 

) Her beautiful, her brave ! ) 

\ Who would not give her tear for tear ^ 

) On Cunningham's untimely bier, ) 

^ And Warwick's hallowed grave ! ^ 



XXIII. 



) AVhat heart so dead as not to yield 

j Fresh pity for the broken shield 

Of youthful Rutherfoord ! 
Death's blood-stained arrow never gave 
To waiting worm, or yawning grave, 
A nobler brotherhood. 



) XXII. I 

\ Who does not bless the sod that lies ^ 

) Above the dauntless heart of Wise ? — S 

"> The noble and the true ! — , ) 

; Hot tears that scorch the rose's bloom, S 

) But water, freshen and perfume ^ 

N The cypress and the yew ! } 



\ 

^ Of vmithfiil RiTTHiTRPnORn ! S 

') 
) 
) 
) 



]' .. \ 

) HER GLORY AND HER GRAVES. XI \ 

i ^ 1 

\ \ 

\- . \ 

\ XXIV. \ 

\ \ 

\ Oh ! long, proud list ! Oh ! household names ! ^ 

^ That each our meed of memory claims, ^ 

^ We speak in trembling tone ^ 

) Of you, who battled, side by side, s 



N And for our bleeding Country died, — , ) 

Our beautiful — our own ! { 



XXV. i 



\ A peerless band ! — we see them yet, 

I As ere their glorious suns were set ; I 

\ Their martyr duty done, — \ 

\ They stood where dangers thickened fast, S 

\ 'Till the fierce storm had o'er them past i 

^ And Death the victory won. \ 

\ ■ . \ 

\ xxvi. ■' 

{ And now they sleep !— the young and brave, I 

\ The bold and daring — those who gave ^ 

\ Their lives an offering free, — ^ 

( That on that Country's hallowed shrine, ^ 

^ Their names, their deeds, their cause might shine ) 

\ Seals of her Liberty ! S 



c XXVII. 

< 

^ But fo ! around the mourner stands, ( 

\ i>lew gathered hordes and strengthened bands, ( 

^i That mock her still to-day — ( 

; And still with glance of living fire, \ 

\ She meets their dark, revenge|"ul ire \ 

. With blow for blow alway. ) 

\ • \ 



-^ 



^ xu 

s 

\, 

\ 

\ 
S 



RICHMOND : 



XXYIII. 

Four suranier suns have rose and set ! 
Four winter moons the twilight met — 

Four years their records told, 
Of war and bloodshed, toil and strife, 
Pisease and danger, death and life. 

And storms that darkly roiled. 

XXIX. 



I Four years, whose awful, bloody trace, 

I In every heart, on every face, 

\ Drawn furrows deep hath made — 

^ Dark years, that on Times landscape stand 

^ Like Upas trees, severe and grand, 

S Casting their deadly shade I 

\ XXX. 

And panting still with struggling life. 
Her phrenzied heart with anguish rife, 

Her bosom torn and scarred, 
With scornful brow and frantic hand, 
\ She still defies the murderous band 

\ That press her borders hard. 

\ XXXI. 

\ Aye, ne'er despairing, though the right 

\ Must sometimes proudly yield to might, 

We isee her guardians bold. 
Still holding high the " flaming sword," 
That 'gainst the Northman's clau:Orous horde, 
Her battered gates would hold. 



IIER GLORY AND HER GRAVES. Xlll ^ 

\ 

( 



^ XXXII. 

\ And still they're falling, one by one, 

The noble sire — the gallant son — 

The fair-haired patriot boy, 
Whose sunny smile must pass from earth. 
To be, henceforth, at home and hearth, 

But a remembered joy ! 

XXXIII. 

Alas ! the day shone clear and bright, 
And soft and fair, a Sabbath light 

Flooded the hills around ; 
The church bells rang their mellow chime, 
As ever in the good old time 

Of gentle peace profound. 

XXXIY. 

And humble worshipers, as then, 
From the rude thoroughfares of men 

Turned them with willing feet. 
In God's own house of prayer to find 
Rest for the weary, laden mind, 

And Heavenly solace sweet. 

XXXV. 

Amid the great assembled throng 

He knelt — our own bold leader strong — 

Christ's lowly follower now ; 
A light serene burned in his eye. 
And truth sublime, and majesty 

Sat on his peerless brow. 



xiy RICHMOND : 



XXXVI. 

He knelt and worshiped with the rest, 
That great, brave soul, whose patriot breast 

With sad emotions stirred — 
As 'mid the Sabbath's quiet hum 
The sound of martial trump and drum 

Were near and nearer heard. 

XXXVII. 

But was not Richmond safe the while 
Beneath the spring day's glowing smile— 

The April skies so clear ? 
Was not her banner waving high, 
The vaunting foeman to defy — 

Her gallant army near ? 

XXXVIII. 

Ah, why should brave hearts feel alarm, ^ 

If God will shield the right from harm, ^ , 

How can wrong triumph then ? > 

And while the air with war-notes rang, ) 

Calm voices clear the chorus sang, S 

Of " Peace — good will to men." ) 

XXXIX. ^ 

The grand old anthem rose on high, 
From lips that owned no prophesy 

Of evil's coming hour — v^ 

" Tedeum laudamus'' was sung ^ 

By many a rapt, devoted tongue, ^ 

With more than wonted power. 



HER GLORY AND HER GRAVES. XV, 



XL. 

But hark ! amid the organ's swell, 
A note discordant strangely fell — 

A sound smote every ear ! 
Men glanced with nervous eye, and gave 
Unuttered prayers their cause to save, 

And women paled with fear. 

XLI. 

** What is it — what ! " is whispered low, 
As through the aisles, the sexton now 

A hurried message bore — 
And Davis calmly rose — no signs 
Of aught to mar the tranquil lines 

His noble features wore. 

XLII. 

Yet as that kingly form withdrew. 
Instinctively each bowed heart knew 

That danger threatened nigh ; 
The booming cannon's rolling sound. 
Like jarring thunder stirred the ground, 

And tears filled many an eye. 

XLIII. 

Too soon the startling truth is told. 
That brave Lee can no longer hold 

His thin and wasted lines ; 
Already from the fields afar. 
Dark with the gathering storms of war, 

The foeman's emblem shines. 



XVI RICHMOND : 



XLIV. 

Oh Richmond ! — city of the great — 
Home of the l^rave — is this thy fate ! 

To be the spoiler's prey ! — 
To fall within the conqueror's hands, 
The booty of his hireling bands — 

Alas, alas the day ! 

XLV. 

Granada wept no hotter tears, 

For the WTecked Moslem's broken spears, 

Than we have wept for thee ; 
And shall thy glory thus depart, 
Bright Idol of Virginia's heart — 

Proud city of the Free ! 

XLYI. 

Hands on our mouths — in silent trust, 
Behold ! we bow us in the dust — 

God rules to-day, as when 
Throughout His broad creation rang. 
The joyful song the angels sang. 

Of " Peace — good will to men.^^ 

XLYII. 

Hark ! in the distance now is heard 
The tramp of horses hotly spurred — 

They come — behold ! they come — 
And all along the crowded streets 
The wild throngs press with hurried feet, 

Unmindful where they roam. 



HER GLORY AND HER GRAVES, Xvil 



XL VIII. 

And motliers pale look on the scene, 
With grave, sad brows and stricken mien, 

*' All — all is lost !" they cry — 
Alas ! our Country's hapless fate ! 
Homes, hearts and hopes, all desolate, , 

Would we could only die ! 

XLIX, 

* Would thou — would'st to thyself, oh God! 
Take us who faint beneath Thy rod. 

With bruised hearts and sore ; 
Better to close our eyes, than see 
The want, the woe, the misery, 

That lie, alas ! before I" 

L. 

And timid children shrink with fear. 
As the rude sound approacheth near — 

The sound of marching feet, 
And closer cling to parent hands, 
At the loud swell of martial bands. 

That echo through the street. 

LI. 

A smothered wail— a bugle note. 
That mingling on the red air float — 

A banner torn and furled. 
Make up the last, sad, woeful clause 
In the brief story of a cause. 

To sudden ruin hurled. 



-^ 



"^ 



^viii RICHMOND 



PART SECOND. 



I. 



Oh ! there were scenes of anguish. 

Ere that Sabbath sun went down ; 
Sounds of woe were heard in Richmondl, 

When her gates were overthrown. 
April decked her hill^ with roses, 

Scattering odors fresh and sweet. 
But the tramp of battle horses, 

Crushed the daisies at her feet. 

II. 

Aged eyes looked on the picture. 

With their fading light serene. 
But the hoariest head had never 

Bowed before a sadder scene,-— 
Only yesterday unbending, 

In her fortitude and pride. 
With a Roman will she struggled 

'Gainst the foe so long defied. 

III. 



Now a pale and crownless mourner. 
All her glory overthrown — 

Weeping Rachel for her children, 
{ Sits disconsolate and lone. 

; Aye ! disconsolate and, lonely 

-; Is our widowed Queen to-night, 

> As within her darkened chambers, 

^ Burn no flaming torches bright. 



^ HER GLORY AND HER GRAVES. xix ( 

\ ^ [ 

s { 

I IV. \ 



VI. 



Of thy homesteads, fair and grand, 
Tell the dark and mournful story 
Of oppression's ruthless hand. 

VII. 

It will note the low mounds rising, 
From thy bosom far and nigh, 



) She hath doffed her crown and sceptre, ^ 

S With their jewelled splendor's glow, \ 

S For the sack-cloth and the ashes ') 

\ Of an immemorial woe. ; 

^ She had ventured all save honor — S 

\ All upon a single die, \ 

^ And behold, to highest Heaven, c 

; Goes her agonizing cry ! < 

\ V. j 

\ Think you He will fail to hear it — I 

\ He — the God of power and might, < 

) As upon His throne of Glory, ? 

S Lo, He sitteth *' judging right !" I 

Clouds and darkness round about Him, 5 

Long may hide Him from our eyes, ^ 
But, my Country ! He will never 

Scorn thy bleeding sacrifice ! ! 



J He will not forget the record > 

Of thy suffering and thy wrong ) 

And although his vengeance tarries, > 

'Twill, at last, be sure and strong, — \ 

^ It will follow where the ruins \ 



tfpS 



<; XX RICHMOND 

\ 



Pointing out the green turfed chambers. 

Where thy fallen heroes lie. 
Aye, thy fallen ! — those who perished 

In a struggle most sublime, 
And whose glory is not measured 

By the fading light of time. 

VIII. 

Prominent among them, bearing 

Seals upon their foreheads bright, 
Are the brave who fell, oh Richmond ! 

Thy beleaguered homes in sight. 
Those who shed their life blood freely, 
For thy safety and defence, 
( And to whom thy love and blessing 

) Were the highest recompense. 

\ IX. 

Oh ! what e'er of all thy grandeur, 

Conquering power and vengeance craves, 
Unto thee, alone, remaineth. 

Still, the glory of thy graves ! 
None may rob thee of this guerdon ; 

'Tis a proud, though mournful prize, 
And it shines a glowing picture, 

To the world's admiring eyes. 



X. ^ 



<; It will tell in song and story, 

\ Of a prowess sorely ,tried — 

) How brave hands upheld the banner 

\ Which their life-blood darkly dyed 

S How they rushed into the conflict, 

( 



HER GLORY AND HER GRAVES. Xxi ^ 

_ _ { 

Full of faith in God and Right — 
How they fell, at last, undaunted, 
'Neath the crushing car of might. 

XI. 

Walker with his calm soul waiting, 

And his feet already shod. 
For the ** forward " march, that led him 

To the bosom of his God, — 
Pegram with his bold eye kindled, 

And his proud lips red and warm 
With the kisses of his bride-wife, 

As he dared the battle-storm : 

XII. 

Harrison and Price and Allan, — 

Noble trio,— firm and true, 
Hallowell, McCance and Grattan, 

Pollard, Nimmo, Dove and Crew, 
Lee and Wyatt — those who perished 

When the strife had but begun — 
And those brave, lamented brothers, 

Nicholas and Robinson — 

XIII. ^ 

Hardgrove, Johnston, Walthall, Ellet, 
Christian, Dabney, Tucker, Brown, 

Warwick (Brothers,) Tompkins, Mitchell, 
Strother, Green and Symington, 

Waldrop, Wynne — alas ! why need I 
Thus the mournful list prolong ? 

None do need my humble tribute- 
Each will live in fame and song. 



Xxii RICHMOND 



XIV. 

Each will live, beloved and cherished — 

Honored, while the lips of time 
Tell the grand, ennobling story 

Of a martyrdom sublime ; 
Live in memory's holy chamber, 

Sacred, guarded, undefiled, — 
Live, while lives one stricken mother, 

Still to mourn her noble child. 

XV. 

Lift thy weeping eyes, oh Richmond ! 

See them in their beauty glide ? 
Crowns their blood-washed foreheads wearing, 

Sealed, redeemed and glorified. 
Safe from ills that vex us sorely. 

They have passed beneath the rod ; 
Gilead's balm their death-wounds healing — 

Lo ! with Christ they live in God ! 

XVI. 

Never more our life-paths blessing, 

Nevermore our griefs to share, 
Shall we feel their love's caressing, 

Or behold their faces fair ; 
Yet their pure and gentle spirits. 

Disenthralled, will hover still. 
O'er the ruined shrines and places, 

Which they once were wont to fill. 

XVII. 

In the solemn hush of twilight, 
We shall feel their presence near, 



HER GLORY AND HER GRAVES. XXIU 



When far in the distant heavens, 
One by one, the stars appear, 

We shall see them in our visions, 
Clothed in new celestial grace, 

When some holy dream at mid-night 
Brings us back the buried face. 

XYIII. 

When we seek the graves that hide them, 
In their chambers dark and deep ; 

Smoothing with our hands the grasses 
Waving o'er their dreamless sleep. 

They will look upon and bless us. 
Smiling on our work of love. 

As they note the pious duty, 
From their sinless home above. 

XIX. . 

This remains — a mission holy. 

None may venture to deny — 
E'er to shield, protect and honor 

Places where our fallen lie. 
E'er to guard from rude obtrusion 

The lone couches where they sleep ; 
Tenderly above their ashes. 

Loving watch and ward to keep. 

XX. 

And when Spring returns in beauty. 
Life and light and joy to give. 

To the hidden germs that slumber. 
And to aching hearts that live, — 

Bringing flowers, of vernal sweetness. 



XXIV RICHMOND 



O'er the narrow couch to spread, — 
Lilies pure and budding roses, 
Breathing incense o'er the dead. 

XXI. 

Thus thy martyred sons. Oh Richmond ! 

Still may claim thy loving care. 
Though within thy darkened dwellings, 

Vacant all their places are, — 
Thus thou still may'st nobly honor 

Those who perished from thy side, 
Calling on thy name in accents, 

Low and tender ere they died. 

XXII. 

Aye, — and those who came as strangers, 

Falling in the deadly strife, — 
Names unknown and unrecorded. 

Save in God's own " Book of Life ; " 
Love them too — revere their ashes ; 

Guard from ruthless hand profane. 
Every spot whose soil is hallowed 

By a Southern martyr slain. 

XXIII. 

** Storied urn," or lettered marble, 

Are not needed here to tell. 
That these pale unconscious sleepers 

Did their Spartan duty well : — 
Did their duty when they gathered 

Round that Banner, folded now 
To the battle tempest baring 

Each a dauntless breast and brow. 



^- 



) 

i 

HER GLORY AND HER GRAVES. XXV, > 



XXIV. 

Did their duty, when they bore it 

Through the long and bloody strife — 
Aye, at last, to shield and save it, 

Yielding each a hero's life, — 
Did their duty, when in dying. 

Mingling with their parting prayer, 
Rose the wish that God would make it 

Still his highly favored care. 

xxv. 

Ended now is all the struggle — 

Lost the cause they died to save ; 
Folded is the war-worn banner. 

Crimsoned with the blood they gave. 
But not lost, and not forgotten, 

Shall they be — the true and tried, 
Who upheld it long and nobly, 

Through the battle's angry tide. 

XXVI. 

Passed are they to shores supernal, 

Far beyond the rolling flood; 
Sealed each martyr's brow immortal, 

With the sacrament of blood — 
Grounded arms for crowns of glory ; 

Swords exchanged for Heavenly palms ; 
On their death wounds Christ the Healer 

Pours the sweet Celestial Balms. 

XXVII. 

Then why mourn them ? — we who're blindly 
Groping in this nether dark — 



^ 



^ XXvi RICHMOND I ( 

I _i 

) Vainly yearning, in our weakness, ( 

^ O'er our wrecked and ruined barque ! ) 

< Rather let our best thanksgiving 

\ Rise to Him, who smote in love — 

<; Giving us the blow and anguish ; 

Them the peace and crown above. 

XXVIII. 

) Oh Richmond ! though thy homesteads dear 

) Once rang with joyous echoes clear 

) Of laughter, song and mirth, 

Though now a brooding shadow lies 

About thy paths, and flowing eyes 
Surround each lonely hearth — 

^ XXIX. 

) Qod to be gracious still, will not 

j Forget — nor on thy fallen lot, 

) Cease to extend His smile, 

) If but amid the dread alarm ) 

I Alone on His sustaining arm ) 

) ' Thou wilt but lean the while. ^ 

\ XXX. 

) Thy past — the crown that decked thy brow 

N Is but a faded glory now, 

( Its light no more we see, 

^ Lost, lost thy sceptre in a^ hour. — 

A blighted oak, a fallen tower 
Are emblems all of thee. 



XXXI. 

Thy forehead wears the mourner's wreath 
Of cypress, and thy burning breath 
< Floats out in fevered sighs; 

k 



7^ 



HER GLORY AND HER GRAVES. XXvU 



XXXV. 



Thy goodly mansions, once so fair, S 

Show vacant places here and there, ) 
And tears bedim thine eyes. 

XXXII. ( 
Niobe of cities ! grief hath drunk !; 
Thy spirit up, and sorrow sunk ;; 

Its arrows in thy heart ; - > 

To see thy bravest champions fall, ^ 

To hear thy sufferers vainly call, ;; 

Hath been thy destined part. S 

XXXIII. ( 
Yet girt with Truth's immortal will, { 
Great in thy desolation still, ( 

Fair in thy swift decay — < 

Like Rome amid her ruins grand, ^ 

Like Thebes a marvel through the land, ^ 

Thou sitt'st a Queen to-day. S 

XXXIV. $ 

And unborn nations yet will own (^ 

Thy sceptred rule, when years have flown { 

And by thee, side by side, { 

The great and good will stand to claim ' ) 

The honor due thy glorious name — ^ 

Virginia's boast and pride ! ^ 



^- 



\ 

War's blighting breath may still consume <; 

Our temples fair — our roses' bloom ( 

His ruthless hand may smite— ? 

But wrong shall not always assail — / 

Immortal Truth must still prevail ; 5 

God will defend the Right ! S 



* 



XX Vm THE DEATH OF 



^1$ l-^all of %lt ioitng ^Miizm, 



He fell — not where numbers were falling, 

Whose groans with the cannon-peal blend ; 
His blood with no common stream mingled, 

Where legions, with legions contend — 
Alone on the hill-side they found him, 

With only his charger he stood. 
As they leaped from their lairs in the wild-wood, 

Athirst for his innocent blood. 

The caitiffs were numbered by dozens — 
He facing the murderous band — 
^ To the roll of their guns he responded 

S With a wave of his beautiful hand ; 

{ But Closer their carbines are flashing — 

{ Their threats by their frowns are endorsed ; 

} Poor bird ! from the fowlers escape thee ! 

) Escape ! quick ! no time must be lost. 

( His hand on the trusty rein tightens, 

\ His spur goads the charger — away ! 

( Ho ! whirl ! But alas ! all around him, 

) The hounds hold their victim at bay. 

\ Did he quail ? — not a moment, believe me — 

\ All true to his Truth, to the last, 

s He fought like a Caesar, nor paused he, 

I 'Till the blow and the anguish had past. 



THE YOUNG PARTIZAN. xxix 



A charge up the hill-side ! — a volley ! 

The horse leaps his rider above — 
They rush for the spoils — their booty, 

A scarf, a ring, and a glove. 
What matters the story they utter, 

His dumb lips can make no appeals. 
His blood stains the scarf as it flutters, 

His hand unresistingly yields. 

Thank God ! the worst now is over, 

All past is the groan and the pain — 
They may scar, they may rob, they may mangle. 

But they never can kill him again. 
See, see ! — they are bearing him gently — 

What matters their gentleness now ? 
Ah, cowards ! you dared not dishonor 

The halc^ that circles his brow. 

They have laid him down under the hawthorn, 

A ringdove is scared from her nest. 
While the little brook sings in the meadow 

A dirge for the hero at rest. 
God's sun over all, too, is shining — 

He looks from His kingdom of bliss. 
On a world that for mercy and kindness. 

Returns a thanksgiving like this. 

Oh, Father in Heaven ! befriend us — 

The war-wolves are still on our track ; 
Our innocents take to thy bosom. 

But ne'er to the spoiler give back. 
They have laughed at the tears we are shedding ; 

They have mocked at the prayers that we gave ; 
Our Mother, Virginia, is wailing — 

Oh, Father, deliver and save ! 



XXX THE DEATH OF 



The prayer on the Spring breezes floated, 

The tramp of the foeman was still ; 
When the moon, in her calm, quiet beauty, 

Rose smilingly over the hill. 
Who thought in the years that have vanished — 

The years of the glad Long Ago — 
That her soft, gentle rays would be falling 

To-night on such pictures of woe ! 

Who, yesterday even, would augur. 

From aught that a prophet could say, 
That the fair, boyish brow, then so peerless, 

Would drip with its own gore to-day ? 
He sleeps while his comrades are calling — 

** To saddle ! to saddle ! proclaim ! " 
He smiles in his sleep, but he heeds not 

The echo that answers his name. 

Oh, comrades ! — too late for the rescue ! 

Strike ! strike though ! with ball and with blade ! 
For the murderers still howl in the distance — 

He lies there asleep in the shade. 
They weep — e'en the stoutest and bravest — 

Tears fall on the hillock like rain — 
Ha, boys ! quick ! a breath stirs the hawthorn ! 

To saddle ! to saddle ! again. 

Oh, the hawthorn, the hawthorn, who reckoned 

That ever the bank where it stood, 
Would, along with the dews that impearled it, 

Be crimsoned with innocent blood ! 
Who dreamed, as they saw it there, hiding 

The nest which a ringdove had made. 
That a fair, fallen son of Virginia 

Would sleep in its beautiful shade. 






-^^v-^V^ 



THE YOUNG PARTIZAIf. XXxi 



The soft, swaying winds interlacing 

The boughs to a self- woven crown, 
Sighed low, as upon the green hillock, 

They laid the young warrior down. 
They laid him there tenderly, they who 

A moment before saw him fall, 
His locks dripping blood that had followed 

The blow of their pitiless ball. 

Ah, well may their conscience awaken 

Remorse for the merciless deed ; 
Each soul has a Judge to account to — 

Each life has its hour of need. 
Remember it, Vandals, remember, 

Tou slew him alone on the hill, 
And that God, whose commandments you trample. 

Can be his Avenger, and will. 

I wonder not that you should covel- 

His pale, stricken brow with a pall ; 
You could not, you dared not encounter 

The dumb face that smiled on you all. 
'Tis over. You hurry and leave him — 

The blast of your bugle is nigh ; 
The wind through the hawthorn is sighing. 

The streamlet goes murmuring by. 

But a heart in the meanwhile is waiting. 

Close by where the mansion-lights burn ; 
An eye o'er the hill-side is peering 

To see her brave soldier return. 
What news shall we give her ? The tidings. 

That true to your leader's command. 
You found him alone on the hill-side. 

And slew — with a merciless hand ? 



<^. ^ .^ .____-l^ 



XXXll THE DEATH OF 



I'd rather not tell her the sequel, 

How, gloatingly over your prize, 
You stood all amazed at the beauty 

That shone from his dark, dying eyes. 
I'd rather not tell how you hurried 

To tear off the badge from his breast, 
Scarcely waiting till God's silent angel 

Might bear the brave soul to its rest. 

She tied on that scarf in the morning ; 

She gave him the ring and the glove ; 
And about him, a talisman holy, 

She threw the bright shield of her love. 
'Tis done. You may go to your leader. 

And tell him the glorious (!) tale — 
That a heart for your bold deed is breaking. 

Its sighs floating out on the gale. 

It were well for you, too, to remember. 

Though fallen his bright, laurelled head, 
That for one dauntless arm you have smitten, 

A thousand will spring in its stead. 
Yea, a thousand will rise to avenge him, 

His name will their war-spirit thrill ; 
Ah, 'twas no common prey that you hunted. 

And slew all alone on the hill. 

Those dark eyes you saw were his mother's, 

The smile that he wore was her own. 
And I know that her spirit from Heaven 

Looked down on her pale, murdered son ; 
And she stretched forth her arms to receive him, 

When helpless, and pallid, and still. 
He lay where your cruel hands left him 

Alone, all alone on the hill. 






THE YOUNG PARTISAN. XXXIU 



There's another, immortal and glorious, 

The Grandsire * who clasped to his knee, 
That boy with his baby-locks floating 

Around a pure brow, glad and free. 
Do you think while he stood your defender, 

And labored for Right to the last, 
That he thought of an hour when you'd scoff at 

The memory of services past ? 

It is said that the dead do behold us 

When Heaven the veil tears away. 
And that spirits released still yearn fondly 

For those who arc struggling with clay. 
Then remember who saw you, when pity 

Failed wholly your stone hearts to move ; 
When likcj vultures, with hands red and gory, 

You murdered the child of his love. 

Ah, the day will come yet in the future, 

When the country he strove to redeem, 
Will arise in her strength self-existent, 

And the light of her glory shall beam. 
Then the Army of Martyrs in Heaven 

Will echo her glorious call. 
And among them you'll see in its beauty 

The dumb face that smiled on you all. 

March 31st, 1865. 

♦ Ex-President Tyler. 



-4]^ 
^t^ 






xxxiv Virginia's dead. 



Wiv^hW^ ^tti.h 



Proud mother of a race that reared 
^ The brave and good of ours, 

Lo ! on thy bleeding bosom lie 
Thy pale and perished flowers. 

Where'er upon her own bright soil 
^ Hosts meet their blood to shed — 

S Where brightly gleams the victor's sword, 

^ There sleep Virginia's dead. 



And when upon the crimsoned field 

The cannon loudest roars. 
And hero-blood for liberty 

A streaming torrent pours ; 
Where fiercest grows the battle's rage 

And Southern banners spread ; 
Where minions crouch and vassals kneel. 

There sleep Virginia's dead. 

Where bright Potomac's classic wave 

Rolls softly to the sea. 
And Shenandoah's sweet valley smiles 

In her captivity ; 
Where Mississippi sullen rolls 

His foaming torrent bed. 
And Tennessee's smooth ripples break. 

There sleep Virginia's dead. 



a- 
^ 



Virginia's dead, xxxv ) 



And where mid dreary mountain heights 

The Frost-king sternly sate, 
As Garnett cheered his legion on 

And nobly met his fate ; 
Where Johnston, Lee and Beauregard, 

Their gallant armies led, 
Through winter snows and tropic suns. 

There sleep Virginia's dead. 

And where through Georgia's flowery meads 

The proud Savannah flows, 
As soft o'er Carolina's brow 

Atlantic's pure breeze blows ; 
Where Florida's sweet tropic flowers 

Their dewy fragrance shed, 
And night-winds sigh through orange groves, 

There sleep Virginia's dead. 

Where Louisiana's eagle eye 

Frown's darkly on her cha'ns, 
And proud New Orleans' noble streets 

The Despot's heel profanes — 
Where Virtue shrinks in dread dismay 
And Beauty bows her head, 
) While Valor spurns th' oppressor's yoke, 

^ There sleep Virginia's dead. 

'Neath Alabama's sunny skies, 

Qn Texas' burning shore. 
Where blooming prairies brightly sweep 

Missouri's bosom o'er, 
Where bold Kentucky's lion heart 

Leaps to her Morgan's tread. 
And tyrants quail at Freedom's cry, 

There sleep Virginia's dead. 



XXXVl AN APPEAL FOR 



? And where the Ocean's trackless waves 

^ O'er pallid corpses sweep, 

^ As mid the cannon's deafening peal, 

^ Deep calleth unto deep ; 

\ Where ever Honor's sword is drawn 

\ And Justice rears her head — 

I Where heroes fall and martyrs bleed, 

\ There sleep Virginia's dead. 



August 13th, 1863. 



^tt ^jpit^al in i^Mtnm ^M^. 



To His Ex^el^ency Andrew Johnson, 

President of the United States. 



) Unheralded, unknown, I come to thee, 

) Who holdest in thy hands the scales of power ; 

) Assured thou will not spurn the suppliant, 

^ Who with frail, helpless hands and burning heart, 

^ Lays at thine honored feet her simple plea 

} Of " Mercy for the Captive.^^ 



Thou hast known 
The tempest-tossings of' a chequered life, 
The chill of adverse winds, the wintry blight 
Of hopes too fondly cherished. Thou hast seen 
How frail a bubble is the world's applause. 



^- 



JEFFERSON DAVIS. XXXVll 



How empty its poor praise. Oh ! pity us 

On whose life-paths shadows have darkly fallen, 

Whose bruised hearts thy clemency may heal. 

We plead for one, honored, revered, beloved. 

Spare him, on whose brave head cowards would lay 

A nation's penalty. If he has sinned. 

The humblest champion of our fallen cause 

Did just as truly sin, — if guilty he. 

Our Jackson too was guilty, yet who seeks 

To brand his glorious name? Ah, who so bold 

As, with the lash of stern rebuke, to dare 

Assail whom God approveth ? — Jackson's soul 

Rests with the Crucified, — shall Davis bear 

The penance of his guilt ? 

Oh, honored Chief, 
Be kind, be just to him whom Jackson loved, 
And proudly honored with his high esteem : 
Upon his head blessings unspoken rest — ties 
Stronger than hooks of steel circle him round ; 
Prayers from unnumbered hearts go up for him. 
Art thou a husband ? — for his safety now, 
A wife sits weeping through the lonely hours 
Of his long absence. Silent, bitter tears 
Well from her burdened heart, while boding fears 

^ Sadden with anxious thoughts her sleepless pillow. 

Art thou a father ? — In their stranger home S 

S Young children watch for him, and pause to hear ) 

The step that comes not — aye, they often ask, ^ 

** Where is our father ? — why does he not come ?" 
And grave lips blanch and quiver in reply. 
And talk of " prayer " and an " abiding trust^^ 
In the All-Father, God. Oh, round his neck 



XXXVlll AN APPEAL FOR JEFFERSON DAVIS. 

Fond arms would gladly circle ; prattling lips 
Would pour into his ear their music-tones 
Of simple, guileless love. Say, would'st thou give 
Joy to these blameless ones? then open wide 
His dreary prison door. 

For this one act, 
Heaven would smile on thee in that solemn hour 
When life is pausing at the gates of Death, 
And thy sole hope is Christ's beneficence. 
Aye, for this single act, so much desired, 
A thousand hearts would pour their prayers for thee 
At God's own mercy-seat ; a thousand tongues 
Would speak thy praise, as that of one who knew 
How, with the tempted hand of conscious power, 
To shield the helpless. 

Oh, most honored Chief, 
Head of a mighty nation ! — lend thine ear 
To this poor, earnest plea for one beloved. 
Set the brave captive free ! and when at last 
Thy soul stands trembling at that judgment-seat 
Where prayers avail not, when the written scroll 
Of human deeds is opened, and there lies 
The record of thy life, — should aught appear 
Which justice would consign to punishment, 
May the recording angel blot it out. 
And o'er thy name, in testimony, write, 
'^ Blessed are the merciful.''^ 

S October 22, 1865. 



FAREWELL TO THE FLAG. XXxix 



^Mthdl lo ^i flatj. 



Farewell, farewell to thee, glorious banner ! 

The hopes of a nation have followed thee long, 

The blood of her slain, like the Heaven-sent manna, 

O'ershadows the ground of her suSering and wrong. 
Around thee have gathered the noblest and bravest 

That ever for Freedom and liberty bled. 
And above thee once glistened the star of a Promise 

As bright as the beams which the morning hath shed. 

Farewell, farewell, faded emblem of glory. 

Lost hope of a people God made to be free, 
Thou'lt live yet,^ennobled in song and in story, 

When those that disowned thee, dishonored shall be. 
Thou'lt live — aye, embalmed in the hearts, torn and bleeding, 

That throbbed for thy triumph, and wept at thy fall. 
And at last when proud Liberty leaps from her thraldom 

The blood of thy martyrs will answer her call. 

July 16th, 1865. 



^D::tx^ 






If 












CCCC 

ScdV 



ClCX' cc 



^^ 



cm: 

dec 

c c*<:^ 

<: <S^C_ 
'<* Cf<l 






^^^c: 









'^^CICjC 





















w^^w^^^ 












^fcO:^ 



'^^^E^-^^ 






^i^::r<i^ 






*iK:rccx: 



3^ CCC 

z. cm. 

coc: 






<:^:33r 



ocrc 

SI 

crcc 

CCCC 



-ccar^ 



^c«3 






CTccc 






m 












^' m: ci<mmc:^ < 



^^S«^- 









1 «3tcr< 

- <^c 



^ <LC 


c 


«: <r<r 


. <: 


: cc 


c? 


cc 


CX< 


cc 


C<p 


<cc 


est 


<^c: 


<z<a 


etc 


<<(Ll 


<rc^ 


Ci<L^ 


<lc: 


<€* 


«: 


CC5C4 


%cz 


c'crc 


S& 


'CCC 






CIC c 









j^ 



